


Excerpts from Clouds

by angelboygabriel



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet, Canon Era, Ensemble Mentions - Freeform, F/M, Letters, M/M, Mother-son relationships, Original Family Characters - Freeform, Other, canonverse, formatted fic, scrolling timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2019-03-09 18:05:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13486875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelboygabriel/pseuds/angelboygabriel
Summary: Easy Company likes to write letters back home.





	Excerpts from Clouds

**Author's Note:**

> Ima is Hebrew for mom and Mère is French for mother.

 

To our mothers on Earth,

We have news of things. Everything is fresh and we can still sleep without a gun, without another man guarding us. We think about you instead of thinking about how our own death will feel. We are still your sons.

Edith Winters holds the letter with care worn hands, a long silver-and-strawberry braid thrown over her shoulder.

_Dear mother,  
We have arrived at Camp Toccoa. It's quite nice, and very warm. I sleep next to a man named Lewis Nixon. He has an odd sense of humor and I think you'd like him..._

Her son is away in Georgia, hair redder than her own, bold in the sun. He will become a great leader.

Amelia Nixon barely scans the letter as she files away magazine clippings and listens to the radio in her home. She likes to wear blue dresses, like today.

_Amelia,  
We are jumping into Europe soon, I thought you'd like to know. I'm one of the higher ranking officials, and our men are young and brave. I've befriended a man named Richard. I will probably bring him home after the war..._

Her son stands proud with silver on his collar but with dread in his bones. And though he wishes his responsibility was less, he will create a home for boys going to war.

Marsha Lipton has one of her boarders read the letter aloud to her. She tucks a stand of blonde hair back and wrings her hands because she can't find her glasses.

_Dear Mama,  
I hope this finds you well. We are in Normandy now, after our first jump. It was scary and like nothing I've ever known, but I will carry on for my country..._

Her son has dirt on his face and holds the embraces of boys who cry. He will become a protector and defender.

Lorraine Speirs can see her son vividly, her own little spitting image as she flattens the frayed paper. The ruby brooch Ron gave her sits on her collar.

_To my momma,  
The shocks of life knows no bounds. Nothing is normal here, and they expect us to kill and kill and take and take. It makes me dizzy, the things I did in Normandy. I set aside my personal woe and think of my duty, and of you..._

Her son will lead with blood on his hands. He will become feared, revered, awed, and respected.

Louise Welsh is glad to see Kitty again, and even more glad that she brings in a letter from her son as she helps set the table and talks to her. She flicks her curly hair over her shoulder and asks her son's fiancée to read the letter while she starts to work on an apple pie.

_Mom,  
I will not lie to you, I miss home. I miss you, dad, and Kitty. Many people have romantic notions of France but it is truly not that pleasant. So many things are vastly different than imagined..._

Louise receives the letter with more light talk, but when Kitty reads the letter addressed to "my angel" she closes off; Louise knows that her son shows his whole being for the girl he loves. He will see the war through with his valor, his wit, and he will return home and live the life he's always wanted.

Cordelia Luz silences her daughters as they excitedly chatter and grab for the letter their brother has sent. Her silvery hair is neatly tucked into a bun, and her hands trace the slightly jolted heart drawn on the envelope.

_Mama,  
I sincerely hope you and the girls do not tire of my letters! Today I write you from Carentan, and the man I told you about, Joe, is looking over my shoulder. He says hello "before we march off to shoot shit" (sorry for the language)..._

Her son will fix boys that are broken and will make them smile. He will cry and laugh and protect his friends in the face of death.

Sofia Toye smokes a cigarette and turns down the radio as she reads the letter her husband gives to her, running a hand through her black hair as he walks by. Joe didn't send letters terribly often.

_Mom,  
It's quiet now as I write you from this torn up town in France. George, if you remember him from previous letters, is with me too. It is never easy to do the things we do and see as we do but our company persists. I promise I'll get back in one piece..._

Her son does not realize the tragic irony of his words. He is a valiant warrior; he will fight, and he will live.

Freida Liebgott resists the urge to eat the whole batch of latkes she just fried as she scans the letter Joseph sent. She twists one dark brunette curl around her finger and thinks about her boy with a gun in his hands.

_Ima,  
Onwards through the towns we march, and I miss your cooking more and more every day. I don't enjoy the work, but I do so love the Company. Some things we have seen feel so dark, but I remember that we must always clutch the sources of light..._

Her son is aged beyond his years, beaten down with the persecution of his people and the anger of a war. He will shoot and kill, but find justice and camaraderie.

Phyllis Webster, with her rich belongings and beautiful looks, does not receive a letter. She receives a journal and sets it aside. Maybe she will read her son's frivolous words later.

He is, and always will be, a dreamer. He will see the war through, and although he may be worse for wear, his curiosity and friendships made will never fade.

Billie Heffron has Nancy Guarnere over while they read their letters, Bill and Babe having put them in contact. They love to talk about their sons, their families; Billie reads the message from her fiery Babe aloud.

_Dear Mawmaw,  
We're headed in the direction of France and Belgium now. I'm excited to see so many new places, even if the circumstances are terrible. Please tell Ma Guarnere to stop addressing her letters to me as "the beautiful little redhead boy from Philly" because it makes Bill laugh at me..._

Her son is a resilient boy. He will grow into a man and hold those that cry.

Simone Roe sips bourbon as she rocks on the porch swing. The Louisiana air is syrupy with autumn colors and paints her in hues of orange as she reads her son's chicken scratch English-French.

_Mère,  
We have seen France, and it is beautiful yet broken. It feels nice to speak our language in the land of its origin. I think you and grandmère would be proud to know that I have helped save many lives, even if it's scary to do. I fear that the worse is yet to come..._

Her son's healing hands will press the fragile tendrils of life back into gaping chests and torn skin. He will never be able to rid the pain from his own body but he will save boys in the grass and snow.

Brigid Malarkey has a pleasant time listening to music while she prepares dinner, red hair neatly braided. The letter makes her smile.

_Ma,  
Just want to start by saying I miss you lots! Skip and Alex say hello. I may not be able to write again for a long while. We are headed towards Belgium with scant supplies and winter on the horizon. As Skip requests, please send socks for us to use when we get to visit a mail post after..._

She is one of the last mothers to get word from her son. He will be a worn and courageous man, seeing everything and losing just as much. He goes into the war with two best friends, and leaves with none.

 

* * *

 

Soon, in winter, the letters stop.

But then they begin again.

Cordelia Luz's hands begin to shake as she reads hers.

_Mama,  
I can't do this. I saw him lying on the forest floor, and there was so much blood. Mama, it was like murder._

Brigid Malarkey cries over a piece of paper.

_Ma,  
They're gone._

Marsha Lipton finds her glasses and refuses to allow anyone to see the letter.

_Dear mama,  
I think I've fallen in love with a man._

Edith Winters is weary and awaits her son and his plus one.

_Mom,  
I want to start a life with Lewis._

Lorraine Speirs is already planning her angry response.

_My momma,  
There'll be no beating around the bush for me. I'm not coming home, I'm continuing to serve._

Too many mothers don't get letters from their sons. They get letters in Richard's distinct cursive and typing, from Battalion HQ, from unknown generals and commanders and men who didn't know their sons but are so, so sorry that they will not be returning home because their blood has watered European soil and stained things red.

We're sorry to report that you will never get your son back. You lost him in the war. He does not have to die for you to lose him.

Sincerely Yours, The Boys in the Sky.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has a very different format than my usual, but I quite enjoyed it! I may do a version for The Pacific and an after-war letters series in the future.  
> All feedback is much appreciated.


End file.
